Reviews by PvtCaboose91

"You're gonna need a bigger boat."

Though decades have passed since it first entered theatres in 1975, Steven Spielberg's Jaws still assuredly holds its position as one of the greatest thrillers of all time, and remains an important cinematic artefact. Central to the film's brilliance is the riveting suspense, the colourful cast of characters, the humour, the terrific dialogue, the unforgettable score, the thrills, and, above all, the way it taps into the most primal of human fears: fear of the unknown. It was also a motion picture that changed Hollywood. The first film to gross over $100 million in domestic ticket sales, Jaws was seen (and seen again) by more than 70 million viewers throughout the season of its theatrical release, and its success inspired the Hollywood trend of summer blockbusters. Additionally, the film catapulted director Steven Spielberg out of relative obscurity and onto the A-list. Even today, fascination with Jaws is on a par with Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho, and it never seems to age.

Upon agreeing to the task of helming Jaws, Spielberg (fresh off The Sugarland Express and Duel) was perhaps blissfully unaware of the challenges that awaited him during the task of adapting Peter Benchley's best-selling novel for the big screen. As he himself stated during interviews in subsequent decades, he was "young and fearless - or perhaps dumb." A pending Screen Actors Guild strike delayed filming, the main location (Martha's Vineyard) was not known for its cooperative weather, squabbles with Benchley broke out (who objected to changes Spielberg wished to make to the story), and there were troubles with the constantly-malfunctioning mechanical sharks (all of which were nicknamed Bruce, after Spielberg's lawyer). Days would pass when not a single shot could be lensed, either due to troubles with the sharks or trouble with the weather. It's a miracle the film ever reached theatres at all. Yet Spielberg eventually finished the movie, and the result is an engrossing, edge-of-your-seat thriller.

The protagonist of Jaws is Martin Brody (Roy Scheider); the police chief of the small island resort community of Amity. On the week before the fourth of July, a 25-foot Great White Shark chooses the tranquil Amity as its private feeding grounds. While Martin is determined to close the beaches and protect the public, the devious mayor (Murray Hamilton) is in favour of a cover-up to protect the town's reputation as a popular summer holiday destination. However, after further attacks, the mayor begrudgingly accepts that the beaches are being terrorised by a monster shark. A grizzled old sea-dog named Quint (Robert Shaw) is hired to take care of the problem, and is accompanied by Martin and shark expert Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) in his hunt for the shark.

For about 80 minutes of its runtime, Jaws is an exercise in elevating tension. During this period, Spielberg heavily favoured the "shark's eye view", which is complemented with John Williams' chilling score. The suspense generated through this technique is almost unbearable. Like master filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock once said, "There is no terror in the bang - only in the anticipation of it". While Spielberg does present a strong case for Hitchcock's words, he additionally manages to belie them. See, for the first half of the movie, musical interludes are generally an indicator that a shock is near, but once the shark is finally seen with no musical interlude and no build-up, it's a terrifying shock. Not revealing the shark's appearance until past the midpoint is a stroke of genius. Interestingly, this was not by design but by accident - the mechanical sharks were not working properly and could only be used for a limited amount of scenes, and the shark isn't seen during the first half of the film because of this. As it turns out, the nightmare of the malfunctioning mechanical sharks was a blessing in disguise - not only was Spielberg forced to rely more on creative photography, but also more on pacing, characterisation and editing. While the shark does admittedly look phoney at times, it still looks real enough. At no point does the shark look so fake it takes us out of the scene, which is a testament to Spielberg's masterful directorial touch.

Another beneficial decision was to use genuine footage of Great White Sharks, which was filmed by the husband and wife duo of Ron and Valerie Taylor. Meanwhile, the film's crowning touch was supplied by John Williams: the score. Williams has been involved in virtually every Spielberg film since The Sugarland Express, and for Jaws he provided a rousing, tense score which flawlessly underlines the proceedings. The music is not Williams' best work, but the shark theme is one of the most recognisable cues in film history. In fact, the signature tune has become as famous as Bernard Herrmann's music for the shower scene in Psycho. One can hardly think Jaws without thinking about the music, which has been parodied enough times to make it a legitimate part of our cultural heritage.

The real star of Jaws is the shark, and, for that reason, Spielberg was under no pressure to sign a big name actor for the lead role. Instead, he had the freedom to go with someone who suited the role. Playing Martin Brody, Roy Scheider conveys a sense of tremendous humanity, and it's easy to sympathise with the character since he seems so natural. Meanwhile, shark expert Matt Hooper was portrayed by Richard Dreyfuss, who effortlessly conveyed charm, energy and dry wit.
Robert Shaw as Quint was a remarkable piece of casting. There's a scene that occurs late into the movie in which Matt, Quint and Brody are comparing scars, and Quint is drawn into telling the tale of his experiences aboard the U.S.S. Indianapolis; a Navy ship sunk by the Japanese during World War II. Shaw's performance is hair-raising as he tells the story of floating in the water for more than a week with over a thousand men while sharks slowly devoured them. Shaw managed to deliver the speech in one long take, and it's the most riveting instance of acting in the entire film.

The phenomenal success of Jaws (which grossed over $400 million worldwide from an $8.5 million budget) spawned three sequels, each of which was a step down in quality. Numerous copycat pictures were also churned out, but none could compare to Jaws in terms of sheer suspense. Look, Jaws is not perfect - some of it doesn't make logical sense (the ending defies the laws of physics), the shark is at times very fake, and there are technical flaws (such as glaring continuity errors) - but this is all so easy to overlook because it's such a terrific, expertly-crafted ride.

10/10

"Peace, they say, is the enemy of memory. So it had been for my boys. For some time now, their past had felt like a dream. Then, suddenly, it was back."

A full decade after The Boondock Saints was unceremoniously dumped in a total of five cinemas Americawide, writer-director Troy Duffy has at long last pulled together The Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day; the long-shot sequel that fans of the original yearned for but never thought they'd ever see. For the uninitiated, here's everything you need to know: 1999's The Boondock Saints is a textbook example of a cult classic. After flopping in theatres, it headed straight to video where it garnered legions of fans and grossed about $50 million in domestic video sales. Thanks to these strong numbers, this sequel eventually became a reality. Thankfully, there's no doubt those who enjoyed the original film will embrace this follow-up, as all the elements that made the original so popular are carried over into the sequel: there's the gratuitous, techno-scored violence, the incredibly quotable, hilarious dialogue, and the self-righteous vigilante attitudes. Heck, the sequel even recaptured the reception of the original film: audiences generally enjoyed it, while critics bashed it severely.

The Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day focuses on the titular Saints: Murphy (Reedus) and Connor (Flanery) MacManus. Ever since publically executing a mob boss, the brothers have been living on a sheep farm in isolated Ireland with their father (Connolly). However, they leap into action when word reaches them that a Boston priest has been killed using the Saints' trademark execution style. Though the brothers know the murder is meant to draw them out of hiding, they're all too happy to oblige the killer and dish out vengeful justice in return. During the journey back to Boston, they encounter a Mexican-American named Romeo (Collins Jr.) who adores the work of the brothers, and is made part of their entourage. Meanwhile, FBI agent Eunice Bloom (Benz), the protégé of the first film's Paul Smecker (played by Willem Dafoe), is on the trail of the brothers.

In short, The Boondock Saints II is a sequel that's strictly for the fans of the first film - in fact, it's one big valentine and a thanks to all those who contributed to its cult success. This movie does not need to (or seem to want to) appeal to anyone else, since you must have seen the original in order to follow Part 2 anyway. Fortunately, Duffy gives his fans exactly what they crave here, and then some. He even adheres to a structure that's virtually identical to its predecessor, with the crime scenes being shown after the killings have taken place before someone steps in to begin theorising how it all went down.

The one big problem with this film is that, despite a few twists and revelations, The Boondock Saints II is almost a remake of its predecessor, right down to the structure and supporting characters (with Julie Benz as an FBI agent similar to Willem Dafoe, and Collins Jr.'s performance as Romeo clearly paralleling the original's Rocco). The dialogue, while still sparkling and bursting with one-liners, does not contain any exchanges as memorable as the best moments of the first film, and there are lags in pace due to this. Most of these flaws, however, are skilfully masked by Troy Duffy's great eye for action. He may have shown an ugly side to his personality in the documentary Overnight, but the rousing, exciting shootouts are handled with an adept touch by the filmmaker. The Boondock Saints II is especially well-crafted and looks great, with accomplished cinematography and eye-catching visuals. The climax in particular is a humdinger. The only problem with the shootouts, however, is the distinct lack of realism. The hook is that the Saints plan to execute mobsters in scenarios gleaned from movies and they have trouble replicating said scenarios in the real world, but - for all this realistic insistency - the boys rarely run out of ammo and seem to be bulletproof.

Both Norman Reedus and Sean Patrick Flanery are terrific as the MacManus brothers. The two bounce off each other hysterically, and it's impressive the way the two are able to shift between humour and drama. The onscreen relationship is incredibly entertaining, and the two clearly having fun translates well for the audience. It's also great to see Billy Connolly making his return, as he plays off the boys quite amusingly.
Astonishingly, virtually every member of the cast of the original film returns here, along with a few newcomers that add a little fun to the proceedings. Julie Benz clearly relished the chance to play the role of Eunice Bloom and she's fun to watch, but she doesn't convey the necessary quirkiness to make the oddball investigator role as great as Willem Dafoe's work. Playing Romeo, Clifton Collins Jr. adds another colourful character to his cinematic repertoire. He's very entertaining, though not as brilliant as David Della Rocco's performance in the first film.

To be sure, The Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day is not as good as its predecessor, but Duffy has successfully replicated the spirit of the original film; a feat not many sequels can achieve. Taken on its own merits, this is a well-crafted, well-written, quirky action-comedy imbued with a dark sense of humour that's buoyed by endearing performances from the two leads. It's not perfect due to its derivative and at times juvenile nature, but I know a fun movie when I experience one, and this is one of the most devilishly enjoyable motion pictures of 2009.

8.1/10

"Mafiosos. Gettin' caught with twenty kilos. Gettin' out on bail the same fuckin' day.
And everywhere, everyone thinks the same thing: that someone should just go kill those motherfuckers."

Shot in a month on a scant $6 million budget, The Boondock Saints was crafted by a filmmaker who knew how to provide a hell of a lot of fun on a dime. Within the shell of a black comedy, writer-director Troy Duffy has mixed gunfights, the talent of Willem Dafoe, Tarantino-esque dialogue scenes, and a vigilante tale, all of which are complemented by cheeky intelligence and rambunctious humour. Furthermore, The Boondock Saints is precisely the type of motion picture that will polarise film-watchers: casual movie-goers should gleefully appreciate the fun on offer, while serious cinephiles will likely despise its derivative nature and at times absurd stylisation. This is exemplified in the fact that the movie received a plethora of negative reviews, yet also received a strong cult following. And the cult following is for good reason - this is a gripping, amusing picture.

Before proceeding with the review, it's crucial to note that one's enjoyment of The Boondock Saints is somewhat dependent on how it's seen. The best way to view the movie is without any knowledge of the plot or any knowledge of what to expect. While this review avoids spoilers, it'd probably be best to stop reading right now if you haven't seen the film, and simply go rent it. It's worth it.

The title of The Boondock Saints refers to the Irish-born McManus brothers: Connor (Flanery) and Murphy (Reedus). The two reside in Boston, and inadvertently become heroes to the public when, in self-defence, they kill a few small-time hoods from the Russian mob. They turn themselves into the local police, but are released without charge after submitting a statement. Realising their actions may prove beneficial for the city, the brothers become vigilantes and begin killing off the city's less desirable element. Hot on their trail is intelligent, flamboyant FBI agent Paul Smecker (Dafoe). But the closer Smecker grows to catching the now-legendary Boston saints, the more he wonders whether their actions are a work of crime or an act of justice.

Strangely, the film's plot is not unlike The Blues Brothers, with the McManus brothers embarking on their mission to slaughter gangsters because they hear a call from God. Added to this, the formula is rather similar to The Blues Brothers: some violence here, a catchy tune there.

One of the most successful straight-to-video releases in history, The Boondock Saints suffered a lot of trouble during its hard, long road to the racks of your local Blockbuster. Troy Duffy's debut was originally planned as a theatrical feature, but nearly collapsed several times before the movie even reached the production stage. Some attribute this to Duffy's inflated ego, while others say the Weinstein Company and Miramax simply dropped the ball. An account of the sordid behind-the-scenes troubles was told in Overnight; a documentary by filmmakers Mark Brian Smith and Tony Montana. But no matter whose side you're on, The Boondock Saints was eventually brought to fruition, and most of the cast and crew walked away happy. While the theatrical release was an utter disaster, the low-budget flick made plenty of waves upon its video release in 2000.

What truly allows The Boondock Saints to work is that the McManus brothers are a compelling, interesting pair of anti-heroes. Additionally, the movie taps into our secret desire for vigilantism. Who hasn't thought of how terrific it would be to mow down gangsters in a rain of machine gun bullets? Would anyone grieve the death of murderers? Out of all the aspects that make the film great, the structure is one of the most prominent: crime scenes are shown after-the-fact before a flashback reveals how the killing went down. Another asset is that The Boondock Saints is chock full of hilarious, quotable dialogue. It has its fair share of cartoonish, gratuitous violence as well (including a scene in which a cat is blown to bits by a misfired gunshot), but it's all in good fun. Unfortunately, Troy Duffy never directed or wrote another movie since The Boondock Saints until a decade later, when the film's sequel finally got off the ground.

Playing the McManus brothers, Sean Patrick Flanery and Norman Reedus are an impeccable duo, and share an extremely convincing camaraderie. They feel like brothers, look like brothers, and act like brothers. They're wonderful foils for one another as well, with Flanery as the even-tempered brother and Reedus as the gallivanting hot-head. However it's Willem Dafoe who steals the show as the gay yet masculine FBI investigator; a rigid bloke who listens to classical music at his crime scenes, and disperses cracking one-liners towards those around him.
In the supporting cast, David Della Rocco is simply hysterical as "The Funny Man", otherwise known as Rocco. Duffy named the role after the actor because it was written and tailored specifically for him. Well-known comedian Billy Connolly even appears in a supporting role as a badass, aging hitman.

For every bucket of blood spilled, The Boondock Saints offers a pinch of brains. In this way, the film is rather akin to 2008's In Bruges, as it illustrates a human bond between lethal individuals with a mind for decency. Vigilantism seems to get off a bit easy here, but Duffy adds in as much absurdity, hilarity and iconic posturing for the McManus brothers as he can to alleviate the tone. Interestingly, while The Boondock Saints is criticised for being blatantly unoriginal, the fusion of so many unoriginal elements in turn makes it an original creation. The plot is a cross between Death Wish and The Blues Brothers, while the style - particularly in the dialogue - mirrors Quentin Tarantino flicks. This mix is indeed original. It's fresh blood in the action genre. Overflowing with exciting gunfights and quotable tongue-in-cheek dialogue, The Boondock Saints is highly enjoyable, to say the least, and it's doubtful you'll want to ponder the film's moral standpoint when it provides such an easy-going, fun 100 minutes.

8.9/10

"The left tackle's job is to protect the quarterback from what he can't see coming. To protect his blind side."

2009 will stand as a defining year for Sandra Bullock. First there was the awful yet mysteriously successful The Proposal, followed by the misguided farce All About Steve which was dumped into cinemas after being delayed by a year (for which the actress earned a Razzie award for Worst Actress). In the shadow of these movies arrives The Blind Side, featuring Bullock in a performance that earned her an Academy Award. Armed with a too-good-to-be-true inspirational tale, The Blind Side was created with two goals: to shamelessly move an audience, and to snag Bullock an Oscar. Needless to say, a film of this sort requires a deft touch in order for it to work, but such talent eludes writer-director John Lee Hancock and his cast who ladle on sentiment with the subtlety of a bazooka. The movie is, quite simply, pure Hollywood fluff, and the fact it earned an Academy Award nomination for Best Picture is one of the most insulting decisions of recent memory.

The Blind Side is loosely based on a sports book of the same name by Michael Lewis, which detailed the rise to prominence of the Left Tackle position in professional football. The movie's prime narrative aim was to tell a Hollywoodised version of the story of Michael Oher (Aaron); an NFL pro who started out as a near-homeless African-American teenager, and whose life is turned around when a local family, the Tuohys, decide to essentially adopt him. Naturally, the fact that Michael is black and his adoptive family are white is the movie's "hook".

In essence, the entire story here seems to be more of a caricature than an accurate portrayal of a true story. The Blind Side gives lip service to the sports-history context, but opts to concentrate on Oher's story without actually concentrating on the man himself. John Lee Hancock has instead reworked the story into a star vehicle for Bullock, whose hard-charging Leigh Anne is shown off, admired and allowed to steal every scene. As a matter of fact, Oher is more or less incidental to a story that's framed less around him and more around the family that adopts him and pushes him to success. Oher is a spectre in his own tale: a one-dimensional "big lug with a heart" caricature whose sole purpose in the narrative is to make his benefactors feel better about themselves. The narrative may concern Oher's life being turned around, but the story is about how encountering Michael made his adoptive mother a more enlightened, socially-aware human being. What the fuck?!

All of The Blind Side's many other sins - the trite, artificial sentiment, the generic structure, and the overall "feel-good" aura of the whole enterprise - could be forgiven if only it was effective, but it's about as effective as run-of-the-mill, sanitised Disney fluff (which is hardly surprising, since Hancock is also responsible for The Rookie). The film never ventures below the surface - Hancock shows a series of kind acts but never delves into the ramifications of the actions of the Tuohys or explores more complicated socioeconomic issues. It's clear that Oher's early life, with a crack-addict mother and an absentee father, must have been very difficult, but these powerful aspects of the story are glossed over in favour of a more conventional movie for easier mass consumption. What's more unforgivable is the out-of-nowhere "what the fuck?!" scenes featuring events that never happened but are included for the sake of formula. At one stage, for instance, Oher defeats a bunch of neighbourhood crack dealers using his bare hands even though they all have guns. It's like something out of a Jason Statham action movie. Later on, Bullock's Leigh Anne goes all Erin Brokovich on the same crack dealers, and defeats them through sheer force of word. Added to this, there are several embarrassingly cheesy moments that seem directly lifted from Disney movies.

Playing Michael Oher, Quinton Aaron's performance is understated and appealing. But alas, this is Sandra Bullock's movie, and though it's her best work as an actress to date, it's still not worth an Oscar. More or less a surface impersonation than anything truly profound, Bullock's turn as Leigh Anne was obviously played to garner Oscar consideration because she not only steals her scenes but also eats the scenery. It's a self-serving performance which undercuts the story's potential power, as the spotlight frequently shifts to Bullock and away from Aaron whenever they share a scene, which is often. The fact Bullock earned an Oscar for this performance is downright disgraceful - there's absolutely nothing about it that makes it anything but ordinary.

With the myriad of criticisms in mind, it'd be fair to point out the aspects that are done right. To director Hancock's credit, the movie is not excruciating - it's easy to watch, well-assembled and the soundtrack is pleasant. From a technical standpoint, this is a home run. The problem with Hancock's approach, however, is it sorely lacks grit. In this way, The Blind Side is Precious for a family-friendly audience. While Lee Daniels' Precious was gritty and grimy, The Blind Side is firmly in PG-13 territory, meaning everything is toned down. By eluding the deeper issues of the tale, Hancock has only crafted a feel-good, crowd-pleasing quick-hit aimed at the mass market. While it may be serviceable in this way, it's frustrating to consider what the source material could've been in defter hands.

4.3/10

"Sometimes I wish I was dead. I'll be okay, I guess, 'cause I'm lookin' up. Lookin' for something to fall..."

A raw, confronting depiction of the horrors of black poverty in America, Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push' by Sapphire is drawing a distinctly mixed response. To be fair, the detractors (like the controversial Armond White, who called it "a carnival of black degradation" but proceeded to use Norbit, Meet Dave and Little Man as examples of "excellent recent films with black themes") do seem to be in the minority considering the Oscar nominations, the Sundance awards, dozens of positive reviews and the official sanction of Oprah Winfrey and Tyler Perry. But, with that said, I personally believe it's important to listen to both sides, because Precious - although powerful and well-acted - is faulted in ways that are hard to ignore, and the mixed response offers fascinating insight into the divided views of how race should be portrayed in motion pictures.

The titular character of the movie is 16-year-old Claireece "Precious" Jones (Sidibe), whose life problems read like a laundry list of ghetto horrors: she's morbidly obese, illiterate and profoundly depressed. She's the victim of incest, too - her father has repeatedly raped her, leading to one child with another on the way. Home is no refuge: she lives with her verbally and physically abusive mother Mary (Mo'Nique), who treats her like an animal but needs her to keep the welfare cheques coming. Due to her tough upbringing, Precious constantly retreats from the world in favour of a glamorous fantasy life. When the school principal finds out about Precious' latest pregnancy, she enrols the troubled teen in a special education program for at-risk girls. When Precious is steered towards this special education program, she meets the impossibly-named Blu Rain (Patton); a teacher so unrealistically patient and empathetic that you could be forgiven for wondering if she is another one of Precious' fantasy constructs. From here on in, the narrative is in firmly clichéd territory.

What's frustrating about the film is the number of outlandish fantasy sequences that occur whenever Precious attempts to mentally block out her darkest moments. Although such scenes may work on paper, they prove distracting when converted to screen, and at times these tonal shifts are downright jarring. Additionally, there are a few scenes that feel incredibly out of place, such as a scene shared by Mary and Precious in the form of a black & white foreign movie. Director Lee Daniels also pushes the melodramatic buttons too hard. He forcibly slams home every message when a gentle tap would be sufficient. It's easy to get a reaction using such themes as incest and parental abuse, but Daniels manipulates each new development for all the tears he can jerk out of it. Another gross miscalculation is that Precious' final transformation happens without the audience, and the end feels rushed and random.

One of the most controversial aspects of the movie is the way it handles the issue of race - most prominently, that Precious has grown to resent her black skin as a signifier of her poverty and misery. In one scene of the movie, which is taken directly from the novel, Precious describes herself as "ugly black grease to be wiped away", and through her interior monologues she makes it clear that she desires a "light-skinned boyfriend with real nice hair". The extent to which she despises her skin colour is further evidenced during a scene in which she looks into her bedroom mirror, and the reflection she sees is what she wants to be: a white girl with long blonde hair. In fact, as critics have pointed out, the filmmakers appear to support Precious' misconception of the value of skin colour by portraying almost all the positive characters as light-skinned: Paula Patton as the empathetic teacher, Lenny Kravitz as a nurse who explains to Precious the benefits of a healthy diet and makes her feel pretty, and Mariah Carey as the well-meaning social worker. Even if the movie doesn't reach the levels of racism some critics have accused it of, it's hard to ignore these implications.

(SPOILERS AHEAD) Here's the unforgivable problem: while some have labelled Precious as inspirational and uplifting, it isn't. As a matter of fact, the message it delivers is that even if you work hard and struggle, it probably won't do you any good. When the movie ends, Precious has escaped her mother but is doomed to die from AIDS. Or if the AIDS doesn't kill her, the diabetes probably will. Either way, Precious is doomed. She attends school and tries to learn, but she could've remained illiterate and stupid since she's still screwed. Education without any opportunity for application is useless. Barely anything changes for Precious, and the events of the movie only worsen her life. This is not a source of inspiration. The only worthwhile message it imparts is that one should be more upbeat despite life's challenges. (SPOILERS END)

On a positive note, the performances are uniformly amazing. For the film's 110-minute runtime, Gabourey Sidibe is Precious Jones - there are no awkward moments, times when she seems forced or unnatural, or instances when she fails to convince. Mo'Nique, who earned an Oscar nomination, sheds her comic persona and disappears into the frightening, self-loathing Mary, who represents a portrait of the self-pitying monster Precious may develop into if she doesn't escape. At the same time, however, Mary is far from one-note - despite the extremity of her actions, she is at one point allowed the opportunity to explain, but never excuse, all that she has done.
As Blu Rain, Paula Patton is deeply alluring, though the character never seems to be anything but a miraculous saviour for Precious. Another compelling performance is delivered by Mariah Carey, who's virtually unrecognisable in her small but memorable role that she absolutely nails.

All criticisms aside, Precious remains a powerful, moving motion picture. It immerses its viewers into Precious' grim world, and hammers home the harshness of her existence through provocative visual associations and an unrelenting sense of dirt and darkness. As a result of some fairly big miscalculations, however, Precious fails to live up to its hype. There's undeniable humanity and emotion pervading the movie, but in the end it comes across as an unspectacular succession of vignettes in which awful people find themselves in awful situations. As a cinematic experience, it's just unpleasant and unsatisfying.

6.2/10

"Alice! You're terribly late, you know. Naughty."

It was a match made in film heaven: visionary writer-director Tim Burton (who's responsible for some of the most aesthetically innovative films of recent decades) taking charge of an adaptation of Lewis Carroll's classic fairytale Alice in Wonderland. Those concerned about the project due to Burton's handling of another much-loved children's classic (lookin' at you, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory) can safely allow their fears to be alleviated. Thankfully, Alice in Wonderland is a lovingly crafted "re-imagining" of Carroll's original tale that once again sees Burton at the top of his game. Through updating the source material for what could be considered a sequel of sorts, Burton and screenwriter Linda Woolverton have created a breathtaking fantasy adventure bursting with surprises and endearing characters.

The movie kicks off with a 6-year-old Alice (Challen) suffering from a series of what she believes to be bad dreams which take place in a wondrous land full of strange talking creatures. From there, the story flashes forward 13 years to find Alice (now played by Wasikowska) as a mature-age girl attempting to navigate through Victorian society. After chasing a rabbit at her own (unwanted) engagement party, she falls down the proverbial rabbit hole and is once again whisked to the magical kingdom of Underland. Here she encounters the motley crew of past friends she no longer remembers, including the Mad Hatter (Depp), Tweedledum and Tweedledee (Matt Lucas in dual roles), the White Rabbit (Sheen) and the irresistible Cheshire Cat (Fry). But Underland, which was mispronounced as "Wonderland" by Alice when she was young, is now being ruled by the Red Queen (Carter). With the lives of her friends at stake, Alice embarks on a fantastical journey to find her true destiny and end the Red Queen's reign of terror.

Burton's Alice in Wonderland is more action-driven than previous incarnations of the story, and "Alice the action heroine" may not be what Lewis Carroll had in mind, but it nevertheless works. The approach will likely irk the purists (what won't?), but this version of the story is more film-friendly. After all, it solves the problem that marred previous adaptations: the story, as Burton said himself, just came across as a girl wandering around from one crazy character to another. "I never felt any real emotional involvement," the director said of prior Alice in Wonderland films, "so I wanted to really to give it some framework and emotional grounding that I felt had never been seen in any previous versions. I want to make a movie of Alice that's more of a story than just a series of weird events." Thus, this adaptation provides the story with direction, purpose and momentum. That said, the story is pretty conventional - it feels like a Narnia adventure. All the narrative needed was a few of the amusing vignettes that Carroll's novel was filled with. Without them it loses a bit of the spirit, and feels a bit too by-the-numbers - the conventional story even gives way to a final battle sequence.

Alice in Wonderland is unmistakably a Tim Burton production. The entire adventure borrows heavily from Carroll's dark, often bleak illustrations and character designs, and it's rich soil for Burton, whose aesthetical eye often matches with the spectacular vistas of Underland. The magical kingdom that has been concocted here is up there with James Cameron's Avatar in terms of immediate visual impact. The key difference between the two, however, rests with Burton's careful integration of real-world sets and props with the vibrant CGI animation.
While the film's trailers implicated a heavy-handed approach to the host of computer-generated characters, they are in fact brought to vivid life using phenomenal, state-of-the-art effects of such a high standard that it's at times difficult to discern where live-action ends and the CGI begins. Also effective is composer Danny Elfman's dark, dramatic score that compounds the perpetual sense of wonderment.

While Burton did manage to dodge the pratfalls he could've easily succumbed to, there are a few thorns which still stick out. Most notable of the film's flaws is the fact that the enterprise has been unmistakably commercialised, with plotting that feels rushed in order to keep the runtime at a taut, family-friendly length. It's probably too much of a snobby critic-ey aspect to point out as it doesn't affect one's enjoyment of the movie at all, but it would have been great to spend an extra 10 or 20 minutes in Burton's playground. Another unforgivable foible is the choice of an Avril Lavigne pop tune for the opening track of the end credits. It's a poor way to cross the finish the line of an otherwise superb home run of a flick.

Youthful Australian actress Mia Wasikowska is delightful as the headstrong Alice; embodying the character brilliantly and boasting an effortless on-screen charisma. Prior to Alice in Wonderland, Wasikowska's only notable movies were 2007's Rogue and 2008's Defiance, but this will almost definitely prove to be her breakout performance - there's "Hollywood starlet" written all over her. It's only a bonus that the naturally talented actress is also beautiful.
Alongside Wasikowska, the endlessly versatile Johnny Depp is wonderful as the Mad Hatter. An eccentric and enthralling portrayal, Depp manages to prevent himself from overplaying the role that could've easily toppled into lazy exaggeration. Depp's expressive eyes and manic, often accent-shifting delivery (at times using a roaring Scottish accent) consistently hits the right notes. Interestingly, Alice in Wonderland marks the seventh collaboration of Burton and Depp.

The supporting characters are all extremely appealing as well. The standout is without a doubt Stephen Fry as the Cheshire Cat. Not only are the digital effects excellent, but Fry's vocal work is spot on. It's a pitch-perfect depiction of the character in every respect. Helena Bonham Carter, meanwhile, shines bright as the Red Queen. From her very first moments on screen, chances are you'll be enthralled by Helena's lively performance and the digital effects bringing the Red Queen to life. In amongst the all-star cast, there's also Alan Rickman as the Caterpillar, Crispin Glover as the Knave of Hearts, Matt Lucas in the dual role of Tweedledum and Tweedledee, Anne Hathaway as the White Queen, and Michael Sheen as the White Rabbit - all of whom are superb.

Reinventing Alice in Wonderland for the digital age must've proved a daunting task for Tim Burton, but the final product is invigorating and confidently-handled. The kids will no doubt delight in the colours and images, while Burton aficionados will devour the sumptuous visual feast on offer. In short, it's an immensely enjoyable ride, and it's easy to get swept up in the magic of Burton's creation.

7.9/10

"This film is a dramatization of events that occurred October 1st through the 9th of 2000, in the Northern Alaskan town of Nome."

Similar to The Blair Witch Project and the recent Paranormal Activity, 2009's The Fourth Kind is a faux docudrama which depicts unnerving happenings through supposedly "authentic" footage. However, whereas Blair Witch and Paranormal Activity dealt with the realm of the supernatural, The Fourth Kind uses the coveted technique to tell the story of a supposedly real alien abduction. While not the first movie to use the suggestion of truth in order to sell an exhaustively fictional tale, The Fourth Kind is far more aggressive; frequently claiming through subtitles and to-camera asides that the narrative is word-for-word true. All the chutzpah promises a skin-crawling motion picture, yet, for all the hot air it generates, the movie is ineffective more often than not, and its "hook" is actually its greatest detraction.

Following a personal introduction by Milla Jovovich which promises that disturbing documentary footage is in store, the film focuses on the "real" and the reel Dr. Abigail Tyler (played by Jovovich during re-enactments) as she recounts her tale of alleged alien abduction. A psychologist in the Alaskan town of Nome, Abby employs hypnosis to help her patients recall events that they've blocked out, but soon realises a lot of them are recounting the same scenario. She comes to believe that these people are the victim of alien abduction and experimentation, and soon finds herself to be the latest target of these extraterrestrials.

As passionate a hoax as it may be, The Fourth Kind is still a hoax - it could even be considered entertainment fraud. That said, if you had no prior knowledge of the movie before watching it, and believed the story to be true as we're told, chances are you'd find it horrific and satisfying. And, to the credit of the filmmakers, some of the "real" footage manages to keep you on the fence as to whether it's genuine or not, even if you've heard it's fake. Heck, it may cause you to conduct days of research. The problem is that the filmmakers spent so much time making the thing seem real that basic narrative requirements are neglected, such as character development and plot momentum. And once you're aware it isn't real, you might choose to focus on the ridiculousness of the happenings that debunk its veracity, such as the wild-eyed Nome sheriff (Patton) coming this close to beating the hell out of Abby in her own home over claims of alien abduction, even though one of his own officers witnessed something in the sky and went on record saying so. The Fourth Kind is the type of film that would work better as a television movie or a Discovery Channel event. It could have also worked if a more conventional approach had been employed.

Director Olatunde Osunsanmi presents many scenes as "recreations" with professional actors assuming the identities of their counterparts. In an attempt to enhance the illusion, split-screen sequences are utilised which depict the "documentary" footage alongside these recreations. This may sound like an intriguing idea in theory, but in practise it's utterly disastrous. Since the most cursory Googling will quickly reveal the "real" footage is in fact fabricated, it means viewers are essentially being asked to watch a low-budget horror movie and its glossier remake at the same time. Added to this, all hope of character identification and genuine involvement in the story is jettisoned on account of this approach. See, films like Blair Witch and Paranormal Activity succeeded because they're entirely comprised of the "real" footage, and it's therefore easier to accept the illusion. The consequence of mixing "real" footage with traditional filmmaking techniques is a heavily contrived production. If the "authentic" footage and recordings are at the director's disposal, why not use them whenever possible and fill in the blanks using titles or the actors when necessary? Why not construct the narrative conventionally, complete with character development, and use the "authentic" footage and recordings sparingly? Better yet, why not abort the whole gimmick?

The title of The Fourth Kind is a reference to J. Allen Hynek's four categorisations of alien encounters. In accordance with Hynek's theories, the first kind = sighting, the second kind = evidence, the third kind = contact, and the fourth kind = abduction (Steven Spielberg referenced these categorisations back in the '70s with Close Encounters of the Third Kind). While the title of The Fourth Kind may spark interest with UFO enthusiasts, the product is too underwhelming to recommend. There are a few genuinely creepy sequences and images sprinkled throughout the film's runtime, but the material is too tame to generate any memorable horror (consider the PG-13 rating), and too contrived to work on a dramatic level.

5.3/10

"Don't you get it? You're a rat in a maze."

It's a curious decision on the part of Martin Scorsese to follow the success of his Oscar-winning crime saga The Departed with Shutter Island; a psychological thriller that would seem beneath the director's cinematic abilities. It's interesting to note this fact, since Scorsese did exactly the same thing two decades ago when he followed GoodFellas with his Cape Fear remake, which could also be labelled as a psychological thriller that's beneath Scorsese's cinematic prowess. This is something to be admired about Scorsese: despite his tendency to create gangster/crime pictures, he refuses to be pigeonholed.

Based on the novel by Dennis Lehane, Shutter Island is an atmospheric, masterfully-crafted mind-fuck of a thriller endowed with a dense narrative. Set in 1954, the movie opens with federal marshal Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio) and his new partner Chuck Aule (Ruffalo) travelling via boat to Shutter Island, which is home to the Ashcliffe Hospital for the Criminally Insane. The marshals arrive on the island to investigate the disappearance of a patient named Rachel Solando (Mortimer) who appears to have vanished without a trace. Those running the facility, Cawley (Kingsley) and Naehring (von Sydow), are less than open about what's going on behind-the-scenes on the island, and their unhelpfulness leads Teddy to suspect that everything is not what it appears to be.

To further explain the plot would potentially ruin the experience of Shutter Island. As the narrative unfolds, more layers of the plot gradually unravel, which leads you to question every single detail. From the beginning, it's clear something is "off", and, as a result, it's impossible to fully trust anything we see or anything we're told via explication. Suffice to say, Shutter Island is such a dense motion picture that it requires more than one viewing to entirely appreciate. As a matter of fact, a second viewing is demanded, as the movie is filled with little details, clues and moments which would otherwise seem inconsequential, but adopt a starkly different meaning once the true nature of the story is known. To the credit of director Scorsese, he's capable of keeping a viewer rapt and thoroughly engaged as each new twist is revealed. In particular, it's hard not to bite your nails as the dynamite third act unfolds. Scorsese's sense of pacing is impeccable, which is high praise for a movie running at over 130 minutes. However, the film's major fault is that Scorsese perpetually keeps us at arm's-length. Throughout the proceedings we observe the characters from a distance, and it's difficult to empathise with them.

Right from the opening shots, Scorsese establishes an atmosphere of gloom and uncertainty that permeates the entire film, and borrows liberally from noir and conventional horror to convey this story. Scorsese expertly transports viewers to this frightening world, and it feels as if the movie was truly shot within a 1950s asylum due to the authenticity and ominous nature that's established through masterful cinematography, production design, music and sound. Scorsese took advantage of every opportunity to fill his frame with something unsettling, such as a sequence within a Civil War-era building whichs feel like something from a balls-out horror movie. Shutter Island is simply one of Scorsese's best-looking motion pictures to date; full of arresting imagery and spellbinding compositions courtesy of expert cinematographer Robert Richardson, and assembled with great zeal by Scorsese's veteran editor Thelma Schoonmaker. While the musical score is indeed effective most of the time, it's occasionally too overbearing, imposing and distracting.

In this, Leonardo DiCaprio's fourth collaboration with Scorsese (clearly he's the director's new go-to actor in the post-De Niro era), the star turns in another strong, mature performance. Much like The Departed, Scorsese and DiCaprio have created a spellbinding portrait of a man on the verge of losing his grip. There are layers to DiCaprio's exceptional performance that should become more evident during additional viewings, and he's clearly one of few actors who can bring such a superb level of depth, complexity and subtlety to an obsessed, unhinged character. Thankfully, Scorsese filled the movie with an able supporting cast for DiCaprio. Screen legend Ben Kingsley is nuanced and creepy as one of Ashcliffe's administrators, while Max von Sydow is positively Satanic as another. Accomplished character actor Emily Mortimer is utterly skin-crawling for every frame in which she features, while Michelle Williams is ethereal and at times enthralling as a hallucinatory vision of Teddy's deceased wife. Mark Ruffalo unfortunately ends up feeling rather short-changed in the role as Teddy's partner, but he remains watchable and effective nonetheless.

Prior to Shutter Island, two of Dennis Lehane's novels were successfully converted into motion pictures. Clint Eastwood adapted Mystic River in 2003, and in 2007, Ben Affleck helmed an adaptation of Gone Baby Gone. Hollywood's decision makers would be wise to purchase the rights to the rest of Lehane's books if they haven't already, as the man's stories appear to bring out the best in filmmakers. And now, Scorsese is the latest director to mine gold from Lehane's challenging prose with this compelling, well-made thriller that grabs you early on and refuses to loosen its grasp. It was a worrying decision for Paramount Pictures to move Shutter Island from its comfortable October release slot to the wastelands of February, and it sparked discussion about the quality of the final product. While this release date shift may have implied the movie is of subpar quality, it's in fact a solid, Oscar-worthy tour de force.

8.8/10

"My name is Malone. In my line of work, you have to knife before you're punched, and shoot before you're knifed. Because there's one golden rule that has never been broken: once you're dead, you stay that way."

Though Give 'Em Hell, Malone carries the appearance of a '40s-style gangster flick, in actuality it's a stylised noir-esque actioner which resembles Dick Tracy or Sin City more than any crime picture of the 1940s. As a matter of fact, director Russell Mulcahy (Highlander, Resident Evil: Extinction) and first-time writer Mark Hosack have assembled Give 'Em Hell, Malone using countless contrasting elements - a MacGuffin similar to those used in film noirs of old, a psychotic villain ostensibly derived from Heath Ledger's performance in The Dark Knight, a samurai girl reminiscent of something from Kill Bill, and a plot as simplistic as Shoot 'Em Up. While the product is indeed a fun ride, the combination of such elements is baffling.

The story kicks off with a shootout as Malone (Jane) battles his way through a bunch of hoods in a seedy hotel to collect a mysterious briefcase. Unbeknownst to Malone, this briefcase is of great interest to a local mob boss, and thus a horde of armed enforcers are dispatched to retrieve it. Naturally, these enforcers are equipped with standard villain names like Matchstick (Hutchinson), Boulder (Rhames) and Mauler (Yen). Plenty of other convoluted machinations are occurring as well, but that's the basic gist of the plot: Malone has something, and a bunch of colourful villains are keen to pry it from him.

For a movie like Give 'Em Hell, Malone, it's a requirement for one to roll with the punches. One has to accept, for instance, that Malone leaves a large pile of bodies in his wake after shooting up a hotel, yet the cops won't be searching for him. One also has to accept that Malone, after getting shot, simply strolls home to his mother (Ryan) who lives in a retirement village and waits for her son to show up every now and then with a gunshot wound which she dresses with her ready-made kit. More importantly, the movie is jarringly anachronistic. Give 'Em Hell, Malone appears to have been designed as a throwback to the private dick pictures of old, but there are severe inconsistencies. For example, while Malone dons a fedora and trench-coat, and rides around in an ancient-looking, round-fender sedan, a lot of the characters surrounding him drive newer-looking cars, dress in different styles, and use mobile phones. All of this creates a baffling, indeterminate time frame for the story to unfold in. Though this is likely just suggesting that private dick pictures are timeless, it's not pulled off with any degree of style. Rather than a cinematic look, the low-budget origins are painfully obvious. Robert Rodriguez and Frank Miller pulled off the concept of such an indeterminate time period far more effectively in Sin City.

Similarly, the acting is all over the place. On the one hand, Thomas Jane is agreeably badass, crabby and sardonic as Malone, and it's definitely a role that suits the actor. On the other hand, Doug Hutchinson had seemingly forgotten that filming for Punisher: War Zone wrapped years ago, as he appears to heavily channel his performance as Loony Bin Jim from that particular film. While Ving Rhames is fun as one of the antagonists, Gregory Harrison is incredibly boring as the central villain. And as the trademark femme fatale of the picture, Elsa Pataky gets credit for doing what she can with her thankless role, but she's hardly memorable. Rounding out the cast is an amusing Eileen Ryan as Malone's mother, and an amusing French Stewart as a sleazy singer who works retirement homes.

Once you allow yourself to go with the movie's flow, Give 'Em Hell, Malone is an easy sit-though - director Russell Mulcahy telegraphs his intentions about delivering a good old-fashioned shoot 'em up early into the film with a highly impressive gun battle, and rarely lets up. Also, writer Mark Hosack gets credit for his ability to at times skilfully replicate the dynamite dialogue of 1940s film noirs. Yet, as enjoyable as this movie is, it'd almost inarguably have been more successful as a darker, grittier, and simpler contemporary movie. Bottom line? Thomas Jane is badass, and the movie is a cool, enjoyable ride if accepted at surface level.

5.5/10

Needy: "You're killing people?"
Jennifer: "No. I'm killing boys."

A more apt title for Jennifer's Body would be Megan's Body, as the physical attractiveness of star Megan Fox is the sole reason why anyone would spend their hard-earned dollars to view this tosh. Horror, comedy and teen angst are the genres explored by the picture, yet it unfortunately fails at all of them - and the word "fails" is probably too kind. It's not scary enough to be an effective horror film, nor satirical enough to work as a comedy, nor insightful enough to serve as a commentary on teen angst or men's fear of female sexuality. As a matter of fact, the scariest thing about this movie is that this is the second script written by Diablo Cody, whose screenwriting debut, Juno, earned her an Oscar. Cody takes a gigantic leap backwards with this phenomenal disaster - there are so many things wrong with the film that it'd be easier to pinpoint the limited number of positives.

To sum up the plot: Needy (Seyfried) is a typical nerdy high school girl whose best friend is the popular, hotter-than-hot Jennifer (Fox). They are complete opposites, but they've been close since childhood. On the evening of a local concert, a fiery disaster strikes, leaving Jennifer alone in a van with the emo band that was performing. During the course of the night's events, Jennifer is transformed into some blood-sucking vampire, and begins killing off young men from her school to quench her hunger. Needy notices the sudden change in her friend, and suspects Jennifer may be possessed by a demon. And not one named Michael Bay...

Jennifer's Body is only skin deep, and never manages to capitalise on the ideas and themes it hints at. According to producer Jason Reitman, the film was designed to speak of female empowerment and explore friendship. Unfortunately, it's not interesting enough to succeed on any count. There's also some impressive underlying symbolism here, but that can't excuse the downright illiterate filmmaking. Clever shit is still uninteresting shit, and symbolism means nothing if the film is not in the least bit enjoyable. The concept of a local high school girl being a genuine man-eater is also bursting with both horrific and comic potential, yet Cody and director Karyn Kusama never properly exploit it. In addition, several plot elements are left unexplored - law enforcement officials, for instance, are either too inept or too non-existent to collect DNA from the blood-spattered crime scenes to identify Jennifer as the serial killer.

Diablo Cody struck gold with Juno, and for Jennifer's Body the screenwriter refused to tone down her trademark smart-alecky dialogue. Chock full of sharp zingers spoken by wise-beyond-their-years teens, the script is marred by a false confidence - lines strive to be clever and hip, but more often than not feel contrived and shallow. Also, whereas Juno was populated with real characters, Jennifer's Body is entirely devoid of them - the film instead features mouthpieces devoid of personality that exist to utter Cody's self-consciously quirky dialogue. Director Karyn Kusama's last film was the disastrous Aeon Flux, so her directorial credentials are already questionable, and therefore she may be guilty for more than a few of the feature's flaws. Both Kusama and Cody were inexperienced in the field of horror prior to Jennifer's Body, and they should not be allowed to tackle the genre ever again.

The central attraction of Jennifer's Body (and, arguably, its only attraction) is Megan Fox. The casting of Fox is almost oddly appropriate since, up until now, people know her almost exclusively as the fetishised, empty object of Michael Bay's leering camera lens in the Transformers movies. Alas, her acting in Jennifer's Body is as plastic and one-dimensional as her prior work. If you plan to see this movie to ogle Megan Fox for 100 minutes, you should be aware that she never gets naked. There isn't even a tits shot. Ho-hum. Interestingly, pairing Fox with Amanda Seyfried was an unwise choice, because Seyfried can act, and her abilities make Fox's deficiencies far more glaring. And what of the much-hyped make-out session between Fox and Seyfried? There's plenty of tongue-lashing in the scene, but it's so random and unjustified that it underwhelms. As for the rest of the supporting cast? None of the males are even slightly memorable, though J.K. Simmons appears briefly in a fun minor role.

Jennifer's Body would have at least been enjoyable had it been a terrible movie one could laugh at, but instead it's an excruciating genre flick unable to produce both intentional and unintentional laughs. Lacking a creative spark, the movie mostly bores with its monotonous foolishness, turning genre ingredients into agonizingly over-scripted, appallingly-handled tosh that's truly a trial to sit through. There are far better horror-comedies available, such as Sam Raimi's recent Drag Me to Hell, so do yourself a favour and avoid Jennifer's Body.

2.7/10